


Questionable Ethics

by shalaika (counterserum)



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Ethically fucked relationship but genuine affection, F/F, Light Dom/sub, Little bit of angst at the end, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Romance, Some hard to tag weird stuff bc this is Hypatia we're talking about, Stone Hypatia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 02:46:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/counterserum/pseuds/shalaika
Summary: Empathy is a rarity here, seeing a natural philosopher display it is almost unnerving. The same hands that have cracked open a cadaver’s ribcage are quick to soothe a choking child or suture deep lacerations in the thighs of a worker mangled by mining equipment. She is never condescending, never scoffs at a patient’s duress. Hypatia is so very soft with them, and it draws up a different kind of pain within you every time you witness it.Her intentions are good, you tell yourself, but she’s flying too close to the sun.





	Questionable Ethics

**Author's Note:**

> So this started as an experiment in second person and evolved into a sort of self-indulgent fic that touches on some of my minor headcanons about Hypatia. I kind of want to emphasize that while a doctor involving themselves with an employee wasn't terribly unheard of in the time period Dishonored mirrors, I understand it might make some folks uncomfortable and discourage you from pressing ahead if it's not your cup of tea. 
> 
> I say it's light dom/sub but tbh it's more a reflection on stone dynamics and what I love about them.

Addermire is always so cold: a lone facility stranded in the middle of Karnaca Bay, vulnerable to the crashing waves and sea air that comes in. There’s only one, malfunctioning carriage capable of taking personnel to and from the island, and a few ferries that serve as more reliable transport.

It’s rather lonely for a hospital, or what  _ will  _ be a hospital once the new director’s finalized plans for restoration.

You were brought on for your background in chemistry, for your dedicated work in a local pharmacy, but everything is so much more chaotic at Addermire. Duke Abele allocates meager funds for the director’s use, but it’s not enough to fully staff the place on top of restoration efforts. The building is decades old and filled with overgrowth, damaged equipment, and safety hazards galore - it’s not exactly a haven for Karnaca’s workers, but it’ll have to do.

After all: where else can they go?

Most days you find yourself fulfilling the role of matron: organizing more qualified doctors and nurses and juggling scheduled patients alongside emergencies. The director sees most of these, gently encouraging the rest to see her assistant.

The director - your  _ employer  _ \- Alexandria Hypatia is an odd one. It’s not uncommon for students of the Academy to be off in some way, or so you’ve been told. There are…  _ rumors _ about another graduate, Jindosh, that are unsavory at best, and that’s barely scraping the surface of what Anton Sokolov is notorious for.

But Hypatia is - different. She’s what you’d expect from the Academy’s finest: a little detached, a little stoic, always working apart from the others -

And yet surprisingly gentle when it comes to her bedside manner. Perhaps you yourself are odd, it is easy to dissociate yourself from trauma and injury, from the patient’s distress. Suffering is a daily occurrence in the south, you just learned to shield yourself from it.

You speak with her in passing, a prescription here, requests for small things here and there, but she is always polite and thanks you for your efforts. Strange, how that almost feels nice. On quiet evenings, she sometimes invites you to sit with her in her office as she smokes and sips idly at a strong tea. She laughs at your quips and touches your thigh, and you move away each time.

Empathy is a rarity here, seeing a natural philosopher display it is almost unnerving. The same hands that have cracked open a cadaver’s ribcage are quick to soothe a choking child or suture deep lacerations in the thighs of a worker mangled by mining equipment. She is never condescending, never scoffs at a patient’s duress. Hypatia is so very soft with them, and it draws up a different kind of pain within you every time you witness it.

Maybe there is something wrong with you, like there is something wrong with Jindosh or Sokolov or Joplin. The kind of kindness Hypatia offers is a luxury no one in Karnaca can afford, so she gives it away for free. 

Your previous employer was one of the best pharmacists in the city, popular among the upper class for his opiates and tobacco-based curatives (the phrase he used to upsell the value of white-leaf tobacco), but he had no stomach for the people around him. A man who had broken his back during the construction of the new Duke’s palace had come to him in hopes of relief, only to be turned away with a sneer when he could not produce the coin for the tincture.

You slipped a small vial in his carer’s hand as they left, and lost your job for it. Compassion is a disease, detachment is the cure.

Perhaps you are envious of Hypatia’s freedom - or what you perceive to be freedom - to be so open, to offer that kind of care without repercussion. She has her critics, mostly the wealthy elite who wished for Addermire to remain a solarium for  _ their class _ , but her praises are sung so loudly they drown out their voices.

You, however, remain skeptical. Her intentions are good, you tell yourself, but she’s flying too close to the sun.

Compassion is a disease, detachment is the cure.

 

* * *

 

Of course, this is what you tell yourself to deflect from the flare of warmth her smile brings you. This is what you tell yourself when she corners you one day and asks you to come upstairs with her. You swallow your fear, your wariness, and try to avoid bristling, letting Hypatia take the lead.

Her office is quiet, save for the rain tapping against the large window overlooking the room. You’ve been in here before, but it feels different this time as she guides you away from the door and backs you up against the bookcase.

“Doctor,” You begin, only for Hypatia to hush you and capture your lips. Her teeth scrape against your lower lip before she draws it between her own, a low hum of satisfaction rumbling between you. When she pulls away, she presses a more chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, honey-brown eyes watching you for a reaction. “...Oh.”

She smiles and straightens herself, towering over you with one arm resting almost casually beside you. You’re not quite sure how to react - fondness and warmth wrestling with the cold dread you’d felt before - so you reach out and rest your hands on her waist, throwing her a questioning look.

Hypatia merely smiles, using her other hand to brush your hair away from your face. “Beautiful,” She purrs, running her thumb over your sore lip. “May I?”

This is far from what you’ve expected, but you find yourself nodding anyway and then pressed back against the collection of medical journals once again, her lips meeting yours for more. One hand tangles itself in your hair, prying it loose from its pins, while the other brushes against your throat and traces a line down your body all the way to your hip. She squeezes  _ hard _ , pulling a gasp from you and taking advantage of the moment to slip her tongue past your lips.

When your hands travel up her waist to toy with the clasps on her coveralls, she laughs - almost breathy - and pulls away. You pause, letting your fingers hover over the buttons. Had you misread the situation?

“No.. ?” Your voice cracks a little, embarrassingly so. “What do you want me to - ?”

Hypatia guides your hands away from her clothes, holding them between you for a moment. “I would prefer it if you allowed me control over the situation,” She says, sliding her fingers around your wrists and leading them up over your head. “I’m not terribly fond of being touched.”

_ Oh. _ Now this you’ve heard of, even if you’re not terribly experienced with the practice. You chew on a response, flexing your fingers in her grip as she awaits your answer. “Of course,” It comes out quieter than you’d like, but she smiles anyway. “Do you want to bind my hands?”

“Only if you’re incapable of keeping them to yourself,” Hypatia is admirably blunt and to the point, releasing your wrists so she can gently untangle your hair. “Will that be a problem?”

“Not at all.”

“Thank you,” She kisses your forehead, running her fingers against your scalp. “You should know I am not fond of play-resistance,” Her lips trace your ear as her hands slide  _ down _ , settling comfortably on your hips. “If you tell me to stop, or seem uncomfortable, I will stop.” 

You nod against her, the warmth returning. Hypatia’s hands are so soft, fingers coiling under the hem of your shirt to tease your bare skin. Her knee comes up between your legs and gradually nudges them apart, her touch ghosting past your undergarments for a moment before pulling away. 

With a force you weren’t aware she possessed, Hypatia reaches up and grasps your hair, pulling your head to the side to better bare your throat. She groans, pleased, before digging her teeth into your pulse, trailing bite after bite across the exposed skin before gently kissing each mark she’s left with her teeth.

Your hands fidget above you, uncertain, until you make a soft noise that draws her attention back to you. “One moment,” You pant, stroking your throat as she watches you with concern. “I need to shift.”

She pulls back, one corner of her mouth twitching up into a smirk. You almost crumple under her gaze, far too intense for your sensibilities, but steel yourself to turn around, pinning your weight against your hands as you leave your back exposed to the other woman. 

“Is this alright... ?” You ask, uncertain. You’d rather not meet her eyes again - almost golden in the dying afternoon light. “I’m less likely to - well. This way seems easier.”

Hypatia laughs her approval and presses her weight into you, sliding her hands up and down your thighs. “Don’t worry,” Her voice is softer, reassuring. “I can work with this.” 

Her hands hover over the waistband of your trousers before hooking into them, thumbs edging into your undergarments as well. “Just relax,” She sighs, pushing them below your hips. “I’ll take care of you.”

You can only nod, your combined weight putting an almost delightful amount of pressure on your wrists. This is all a little forward, the sensible part of your mind chastises you, too forward. But the fingers of her right hand slip between your legs and reason is promptly sent flying out the window.

It’s difficult at this angle - you two would be better off with one of those expensive toys the Abbey condemns, or something  _ else _ \- but you make do. Hypatia’s fingers feel wonderful stroking you, spreading your slick between your lips and teasing at your entrance. 

“So wet already,” She murmurs against the back of your neck, grinding her hips into your rear. “Should I apologize for having this effect on you?”

Her thumb circles your clit and you  _ throb _ , hissing into the dusty tomes pressed against your face, your traitorous hips rocking in time with her ministrations. You’ve no answer for her, but she doesn’t seem to expect one, instead sliding two fingers into you and  _ curling  _ them.

The sound is embarrassing, obscenely loud in the silence of her office as evidence of your desire drips onto her hand with each pump of her fingers. She thumbs over your clit again, and you can feel her grinning against your skin.

“No,” Hypatia says. “No, I don’t think I should. You are far too beautiful like this, I won’t apologize for helping you. Does this feel nice?”

She grabs your throat with one hand and snarls, startling you as she quickens the pace. Her fingers curl and pump inside you, thrusting harder. You swallow a whimper and buck against her, earning a grunt of approval.

“Yes,” Her voice is low, almost animalistic in your ear. “It does feel nice, doesn’t it?”

You squeeze around her fingers, trying to form words, but all you can do is whine. Tension coils in your belly, bringing you tumbling closer to completion with each thrust until, until -

Hypatia rips her hand away, laughing. “Oh no,” She grabs your hips and twists you around, leaving you dizzy and twitching with need as you lean back against the bookcase, trying to focus on her. “No, you’re not allowed to spend yourself yet.”

You swear, clenching and unclenching your numb fingers in an attempt to ground yourself. “Is - isn’t that why you brought me here?” You manage to ask, biting your lip. 

“Hm,” She doesn’t immediately reply, instead leaning forward to nuzzle your cheek, tilting your head to align with hers for a surprisingly chaste kiss. “Is that what you want?”

Her fingers coil around your hips, leaving a trail of your slick on your bare skin. 

“Yes!” You try to entice her, leaning up to return the kiss. “Yes,  _ please _ , doctor - ”

But she merely leans back, grinning. Stepping back, she squeezes your hips, letting her eyes track over your body in one long, agonizing movement. “Doctor? I thought we were on more personal terms than that.”

“Alexandria - “ You try, following her again. “Please - ” 

Hypatia drags you back with her, settling down into her chair. You stumble for a moment, awkwardly kicking your trousers off and to the side, before allowing her to pull you astride her thigh. “Lovely,” She purrs, voice rough. “I’d like for you to rut against me.” 

You hover over her, still shaking from being pushed  _ close _ to the edge, but comply, gripping her shoulders to steady yourself. “Your clothes - ?” You manage to gasp, shivering as she squeezes your rear and drags you against her. “ _ Ah _ \- are you sure - “

The pulsing heat between your thighs only intensifies, leaving you to twitch piteously against her, aching for release. She growls and grasps your face, biting at your lips with a hunger you’d never have expected of her. 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Hypatia insists, “I want you to spend yourself, grinding your lovely body against mine. I want to  _ see _ your pleasure.”

Her teeth dig into your lip, drawing a cry from you once more. Instinctively, you rock your hips against her thigh, the rough fabric of her coveralls rubbing you as if to reward your efforts. A part of you wishes to rub against her bare skin, to feel the muscles flexing beneath her warmth, to see her before you in all her glory, and the thought only pushes you  _ closer _ . 

You whine and tilt your head back, squeezing her shoulders as you grind down harder. Hypatia only purrs, following your movement to kiss your neck and jaw, swirling her tongue around the marks she’s made and letting out little satisfied noises.

When you come, it is overwhelming, with her fingers tangled in your hair and her teeth nipping at your flesh, dragging out each flutter and pulse until you cannot hold yourself up anymore and collapse against her, panting.

“Good,” She praises you, softening her approach. Your face is lifted from her shoulder to meet her gaze, the evening light calming the intensity of her stare. This time, you do not wilt and lean forward to nuzzle her, and are met with a far more gentle kiss. “Stay here a moment, will you?”

She smooths your hair down, sighing. “I’ll have to leave soon,” You remind her, still hazy from your climax. “I have to - “

“I know,” Hypatia soothes. “I know. But stay a moment, enjoy this.” 

You shudder against her, then nod. Addermire is quiet.


End file.
